Elceeded my discreet,
The life that once with joy did fleet;
Turned pale and sorrow’s cloak I wear,
As silence whispers through the air.
Blood runs dry, and heart beats low,
The river of dreams forgets to flow;
Thou mind darketh, in endless night,
Where once did bloom the morning light.
The light of hope, now faint, now gone,
Faded beneath the darkened dawn;
A soul adrift in weary sea,
Seeking what once was—memory.
Waryness becomes my breath, my art,
A hollow echo of the heart;
Yet still, within this silent deep,
A spark unseen refuses sleep.